The Chase
by Raptorguy19
Summary: After the events of Rebel Yell, Jack and Cole are forced to go on the run after they are framed for a crime they did not commit. While on the run, another threat rises against them and threatens to finish them off once and for all.
1. Warning Signs

**Welcome, folks, to the sequel of my previous fanfiction** ** _Rebel Yell_** **! I originally published this story last year and made it up to five chapters, but I didn't like the direction the story was going so I decided to delete it and start again from scratch. Many of the details of the first couple chapters remain the same, but some major changes have been made to fit the plot line I'm shooting for. Without further delay, here's the new and improved fanfiction.** ** _The Chase_** **is on!**

Jack Marston hid in the tall grass behind a large boulder, looking for his adversary. He was short of breath and adrenaline surged through his body. With his rifle in hand, Jack bobbed out of cover for a second. Nothing. He bobbed back behind the rock and listened carefully for footsteps. Sure enough, several seconds later he heard the slow and heavy footsteps of the threat facing him. He was less than ten feet away now. If Jack didn't act soon, he would probably be killed.

Jack made sure his rifle was loaded and left cover one last time to face his opponent. His sheer size startled Jack and he fell backward. The rifle left his hands as he fell and he scooted backward as quickly as he could. It wasn't fast enough.

Just before his adversary could finish him off, two shots rang out in the distance. The large grizzly bear that Jack and Cole had been hunting collapsed mere inches from Jack's boots. Cole quickly rode up to the scene on horseback and dismounted. He discharged one more shot to make sure the bear was dead and helped Jack to his feet.

"Jack, come on," Cole said. "You can do better than that."

Jack removed his knife from his belt. "Give me a little credit. The bear caught me off guard."

Only a day had passed since Cole Ricketts had paid Jack's bail and they left Blackwater together. They had decided to start their new lives as bounty hunters in Manzanita. The two bounty hunters hadn't had a job yet, but it had only been a day, so they hunted to pass the time. It helped them maintain their shooting skills and they could use the extra money from selling pelts to fund their business.

"You can fight the Mexican Army with no problem, but a bear brings you to your knees? Or in this case your ass?" Cole laughed. "Sorry, Jack, I just don't understand."

Jack started skinning the bear as Cole mounted his horse again. "What happened to your horse, Jack?"

Jack paused briefly and looked up from the bear. "Got spooked. Don't know where it went. The old nag will probably be back soon enough though."

"Even if he never came back, we could buy you two horses with the money we're bound to make on this behemoth of a bear," Cole said.

"He is a big one, ain't he?"

"I don't think I've ever seen one this big."

Jack snickered. "That don't sound right."

Cole shook his head and chuckled. "You kids and your perverted minds. Well, we're going to need a wagon for this one. Manzanita's only a half mile up the road. You keep skinning that thing and I'll be right back."

Jack continued to work on skinning the bear as Cole rode in the direction of Manzanita. While working, he reflected on everything that had happened to him in life and the progress that he had made as a person. He would never stop regretting killing the lawmen at his ranch, but he had found peace. He was now on the side of the law, so he would respect his fellow lawmen from this point forward.

Thirty minutes later, Cole returned with the wagon. He knelt down next to Jack and the two of them spent the next two hours skinning and cutting up the bear. A slight breeze blew through the trees. Some of them were starting to show the earliest signs of autumn, though there were still several weeks remaining of summer. The breeze kept Jack and Cole cool as they worked. Once the pelt had been removed, Jack hung it from a tree to completely drain it of blood.

Jack and Cole talked about their plans for the future while they were waiting for the pelt to dry. "So what are we going to do after this, exactly?" Jack asked. "I've never done nothin' like this."

Cole sat on a nearby rock and wiped a few beads of sweat off his neck with a handkerchief. "First we need bounties. There are more bounties here in Tall Trees than there are in Blackwater. That's why we left."

"It's a shame that the bounty you told me about yesterday was already captured."

"I know. But Manzanita's a small town with very limited resources and it could use a couple bounty hunters like us to keep it safe. Especially with the prospectors that are now out on Nekoti Mountain lookin' for silver."

"How exactly do we start the business side of it? Wouldn't we need some sort of building?"

"We have one. The cabin I bought here has two levels. We could move the beds to the upper level and do our business in the lower level."

"And what are we gonna call this business?"

Cole shook his head and smiled. "As soon as we start getting some business coming in, we can think of a name."

After several minutes of silence, Cole took down the bear pelt, shook it, folded it neatly, and placed it in the front of the wagon. Jack's palomino had returned by then and Cole towed it along on horseback as Jack drove the wagon the half mile back to Manzanita. Storm clouds were beginning to roll in as their wagon rolled into town. The sheer size of the bear impressed Manzanita's residents as well, who stopped and stared at the largest bear pelt they had ever seen.

Jack stopped the wagon in front of the trading post. He entered the shop and the shopkeeper went wide eyed at the sight of the pelt he was carrying.

"Damn! That's one of the biggest pelts I ever seen!" he exclaimed. "How did youmanage to find that sucker?"

Jack set it neatly on the counter. "We shot him just a half mile outside of town. How much can I get for the pelt?"

"Well I can give you a good sum for that pelt. Hell, I could probably have my carpenter make three or four rugs from that thing! How does $50 sound?"

"I think that's mighty generous of you, mister," Jack said. The man withdrew the cash and quickly paid Jack. He then took the pelt and placed it behind the counter.

"You got anything else?" the merchant asked.

"Not today," Jack said. We'll be back though."

"You're always welcome back. Thank you for your business!" The merchant waved as Jack exited the building and met Cole near the entrance.

Jack showed Cole the money. "A pretty good haul for one bear pelt," Cole said. "That'll go a long way to help us with our business."

The distant sound of a horse galloping caught Jack and Cole's attention. It was rapid paced, which was uncommon on the dangerous, winding mountain roads through the area. The pair watched as the horse and rider quickly came into view through the trees. Jack could eventually tell that the rider was none other than Archer Fordham. But Fordham was still in prison, wasn't he? What was he doing here?

This was the question Jack asked when Fordham stopped a few feet from him. "Fordham? How did you get out of prison?" Jack asked, completely surprised. Fordham appeared disheveled as he glared at Jack and drew his pistol. Even more surprised now, Jack and Cole drew their pistols and aimed them at Fordham.

"Put the gun away," Jack said as calmly as possible.

"I can't do that," Fordham said. "They asked me to kill you."

"Who?"

"Doesn't matter. I can't tell you anything."

"So you're just gonna kill me."

"That's the plan, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Cole asked. "Do you not _want_ to kill us? What the hell is going on here, Archer?"

"They're going to kill me if I don't kill you, Jack."

"Who are 'they'?" Jack asked again.

"It's two on one, Archer," Cole said threateningly. "And you know we won't miss. Why don't you tell us what's _really_ going on here?"

Fordham sighed and put his pistol away. "It's Nathan Covington," he said quietly.

"What was that?" Jack asked.

"Covington thinks you killed Walter Morris, Jack. He doesn't want to go through another lengthy trial process. He just wants to kill you."

"He can't do that," Cole said. "Due process..."

"He doesn't care," Fordham interrupted.

"He's the piece of shit that tried to lay hands on my mother," Jack said. "She beat the hell out of him."

"So he sent you to do his dirty work?" Cole asked skeptically. "You were in prison. Unless..." COle began pacing. "Unless it's a conspiracy."

"Come again?" Fordham asked.

"Yes, this makes perfect sense. That's the only way to explain why they let you go. They're using you as a way to get to Jack. Probably not going to let you stay free."

"They know you, Jack," Fordham said solemnly. "They'll probably bring heavy man power and heavy fire power. You need to run. You need to get away."

"But what about you?" Cole asked. "We can't just leave you behind. If they're using you, then Covington probably made up some story like Jack broke you out of prison. They'll be chasing you too."

"I'll stay behind and hold them off for a bit. They can't be much farther behind me. They've probably been tracking me."

"I'm not going to let you be a martyr at our expense," Cole said. "This isn't some dime western novel. If they're coming soon, we don't have time to run. We have to stand and fight."

"No," Jack said. "We can't fight."

Cole looked surprised. "I thought you of all people would be with me on this."

Jack sighed. "If we fight, we probably ain't gonna live. And even if we do, they won't stop comin' after us. It will never end. We'll all be fugitives, real fugitives."

"But we already are in their eyes. What else can we do?"

"Look, we don't have much time to debate this," Fordham said. "I think the safest option is to run."

The thunderous sound of multiple horse hooves filled the air. Cole looked through the tree cover and gasped. "It's them! Saddle up fast, boys! We're goin' on the run!" The three of them quickly mounted up and took off as horse and rider shapes began materializing from the tree cover. Rain began to fall as the intense chase began.

"You know, I've been a part of many posses in my day," Cole yelled. "Never thought I'd be running from one."

"I agree," Fordham said.

"How are we gonna ditch these guys?" Jack asked.

"There's no special trick when they're this close," Cole said. "We just have to pray we can get some distance. That means we have to keep riding. Day and night. We can't let up. Once we get some distance, then we can start thinking strategy."

"And what if we don't get distance?"

Cole took a few seconds to respond. "Just ride, Jack!"

Shots began to ring out from the direction of the posse, which was only about a hundred yards behind them now. Jack ducked as bullets whizzed above his head. He rode as low as possible to give them as little a target range as possible. Thunder boomed and lightning crashed as the posse started to gain ground on the trio.

The sound of a gasoline engine made the three of them cringe in fear. The vehicle was much faster than their horses and would easily catch up to them unless they acted fast.

"Into the brush!" Fordham yelled. "Those cars don't do well off road." The trio made a sharp left and headed into the forest of Tall Trees. The posse followed close behind. The car, though going slower now, was still keeping pace with most of the men on horseback.

The chase went on for several hours. About an hour after sunset, the shooting stopped, the storm had passed, and the posse started to fall behind. One or two shots rang out periodically, but nothing like the heavy gunfire of earlier. Eventually the shots stopped altogether.

The trio rode until the sun started to rise. By this time, they had reached Montana Ford and the posse was nowhere in sight. All of them were tired and sore from the long night's ride. The horses in particular, having done the leg work, appreciated having the opportunity to sleep on the other side of Montana Ford. They crossed the river and made camp fifty yards from the river bank.

Cole prepared a fire as Jack filled the canteens with river water. A large slab of meat that Jack had cut from the bear before the posse had arrived was on the menu today. The slab of meat was large and thick enough to feed the three of them, but only for that one day. The water was boiled over the fire to disinfect it.

As the three of them ate, Cole discussed their game plan. "We can only sleep for a few hours. Can't stay in one place for too long. I'll take first watch. Jack, you'll take second. Fordham, since you've been running as long as that posse has, you'll get the most rest. You'll have last watch while Jack and I sleep."

"Wait, that's it?" Jack asked. "Why can't we sleep longer if we've got people keeping watch?"

"Do you want them to catch us?" Cole asked. "Three hours is excessive in my mind, yet I'm willing to settle for it because we're all tired. We're not going to argue this. It's settled. Now go to sleep."

Jack tossed and turned, unable to sleep, for the hour that Cole was on watch. When Cole approached him to wake him for second watch, he immediately responded by grunting and sitting at the watch point, a lone tree stump about two feet tall. The hour went by even slower and Jack found himself dozing off as he watched and listened to the San Luis River flow lazily by. Despite their circumstances, Jack couldn't help but feel a sense of peace in the setting they were in. He hoped that things would eventually be alright.

Fordham's watch came slowly. As Jack woke Fordham and Fordham sat on the tree stump, Jack was finally able to lay down and get a moment's sleep.


	2. The Plan

Jack woke up less than an hour after he had fallen asleep. He slowly sat up and groaned, rubbing his sore back as he did so. He looked to his left and Cole and Fordham were both awake and speaking indistinctly. A map of New Austin was laid out on the tree stump and the men were pointing at it for some reason. Jack turned his attention to the San Luis River and watched it flow for a few minutes. He wasn't looking forward to being a fugitive yet again. He figured he had done well enough to leave that behind, that he was going to make a new start with Cole. He hoped that everything would eventually work out for the better.

Jack sighed and stood up. He approached Cole and Fordham, who looked up and smiled when he reached them.

"Good morning, Jack," Cole said.

"What you guys up to?" Jack asked.

"We're figuring out a way to get out of this mess," Fordham said. "The posse that's after us has no legal right to pursue us, since we've committed no crimes and you've already been cleared of your crimes."

"For now, while the posse's still pursuing us, we need to focus on staying as far away from the law as possible," Cole said. "Hopefully at some point we'll be able to clear our names without ever having to go through Covington directly."

"So where we ridin' to? Mexico?"

"Jack, you can't just go runnin' to Mexico every time you got the law after you," Cole responded. "I was thinking maybe we could hide in Pike's Basin."

"That's not a good idea," Fordham warned. "The last Bollard twin is holed up there with what's left of his gang. Holing up in Pike's Basin right now is practically suicide."

"What about the MacFarlane Ranch?" Jack asked. "I'm sure Miss Bonnie would be happy to help us out. She did good helpin' my Pa when he stayed there."

"That's not a good idea either," Fordham said, shaking his head. "There's a marshal's office at MacFarlane Ranch. Even if the MacFarlanes agreed to help us, the law there would probably bring us in anyway. Just like Cole said, we need to be as far from the law as we possibly can."

"So," Cole began, "we know there are lawmen in most of the settlements out here. It ain't gonna be easy to stay away from them. That's how they've always wanted it to be. The law's presence has really stepped up out here since I worked the Plainview oil fields years ago. This is going to be a hell of a lot trickier than I'd like it to be."

"How about Rathskeller Fork?" Jack asked, pointing to the settlement that was in the extreme northwest portion of the map. "May be a hell of a long ride away, but that's what makes it a good place to be."

"You may be on to something, Jack," Fordham said. "There's no formal law set up in Rathskeller Fork. There's a loose collection of volunteer lawmen, but they usually don't have any contact with lawmen outside of Gaptooth Ridge. Rathskeller is more of a traveler's lodge anyway; plenty of criminals hole up there already."

"That'd be good for our bounty hunting business," Jack said to Cole.

"Let's not think about that right now, Jack," Cole said. "I know you were looking forward to our business venture, as was I, but let's put the focus on getting far from the people who want us dead for now. We'll get back to this idea eventually, but we got more important concerns right at this moment."

"So it's decided," Fordham said. "We ride to Rathskeller Fork. We better take the back roads. Avoid all major towns at all cost. The last thing we want to do is get caught. First, we travel south to Brittlebrush Trawl, then head west on the roads and trails until we reach the railroad bridge at Benedict Pass. From there we travel due north, west of Ridgewood Farm, until we reach Rathskeller Fork.

"It will take two days to reach Rathskeller by these back roads, but we'll get there in due time. I'll lead the way."

"Sounds like a plan," Jack said.

"Let's get ready to go," Cole said.

The three men started packing up their camp immediately. While Fordham and Jack were working on this, Cole prepared a fire and made some coffee for the men. They would need the energy boost to get them through the long ride to Rathskeller Fork. Once the camp had been all packed up, Cole passed around three tin cups filled to the brim with strong black coffee. The three men drank their coffee in silence, and less than ten minutes later, they mounted up and began their trek.

Meanwhile, the posse that had been pursuing the trio was camped at the old Bearclaw Camp. Formerly a hideout for Dutch van der Linde's gang of Native American renegades, the old logging camp was now completely deserted, which made it the perfect stopping place for the posse. Nathan Covington was frustrated that the three men had been so close yet had gotten away from him. He never let his bounties get away like that, and he wasn't about ready to start now.

Throughout his twenty year career as a lawman, Nathan Covington had earned a reputation as a ruthless bounty hunter who never failed to bring in a bounty. He got his start in the law business as a sheriff's deputy in Armadillo. When the sheriff was stabbed to death in a bar fight, Nathan spent months on the trail tracking the sheriff's killer. After he brought this man to justice, he was made sheriff of Armadillo and remained there until Marshal Leigh Johnson took over in 1904. From there, Nathan made his way to Blackwater, where he served in the police department under Chief Kyle Rech and Chief Archer Fordham until Fordham was fired and Nathan took over as temporary chief.

A formal election for Blackwater Chief of Police was going to take place in a month, and Nathan hoped to have his men by then so that the people of Blackwater could see that he was the best man to serve as their permanent chief.

Nathan had been surprised by the tenacity and determination of the three men. He had expected this mission to be easy. Despite the fact that he was up against a Ricketts and an experienced police chief, he figured he had gotten the jump on them and that he had the advantage. Unfortunately for him, Cole and Jack had gotten used to hard riding and being under intense fire during their participation in the Mexican Revolution that had taken place just a month ago. And Fordham…Fordham was always a determined and energetic person. Nathan mentally kicked himself for not seeing this coming.

The posse was up again at the crack of dawn. Nathan walked through camp and woke every member of the posse up. He was eager to get back on the trail to hunt the bastard outlaws responsible for the death of Blackwater's best bounty hunter, Walter Morris.

Walter Morris had been a casualty of the Mexican Revolution. He had been sent to Mexico to apprehend Jack for other crimes he had committed. When Jack had returned from Mexico and Walter Morris was nowhere in sight, Nathan suspected the worst, that Morris had been killed. He suspected that Jack was behind his death, which was technically correct. Jack had ambushed Morris just before he could shoot Cole dead in the presidential palace in Mexico City.

Unfortunately, due to the recent rain storm, tracking the trio would be close to impossible. Nathan's game plan at this point was to return to Manzanita and question the locals to see what kind of clues he could acquire that could potentially lead him to the wanted men. Within a half hour, everyone in the posse was awake and ready for action. The lawmen mounted up and rode back to Manzanita.

Just a few hours later, the posse rode into town. People gawked in curiosity at the large group of lawmen. Never before had they seen so many men of the law in their town. Rumors had begun circulating since yesterday as to what the huge posse was doing in town. Some feared that someone had put Dutch's old gang of Native Americans back together; indeed, loosely organized bands of these men occasionally terrorized Manzanita. But this was not why the posse was here.

Nathan Covington walked up the steps to Manzanita Post. He entered and greeted the shopkeeper by tipping his hat. "Good morning," he said. "My name is Nathan Covington. I'm the chief of police in Blackwater and I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me."

"Yes, sir," the shopkeeper responded. "What is this about if I may ask?"

"We're searching for three dangerous fugitives," Nathan said. "One of these men broke another out of prison, and the third man was an accomplice to that jail break. They would have passed through here yesterday. Can you tell me if you noticed anything suspicious yesterday?"

"No, sir, nothing suspicious," the shopkeeper responded. "But boy lemme tell ya, this kid brought in a huge bear pelt! Haha, the sucker's big enough to be the blanket of a sleeping giant."

"Wait. You say a kid brought in that pelt? Can you describe this kid for me?"

"Well, he couldn't have been more than twenny years of age. Had an unkempt beard, looked like he had been on the trail for a while. Wore a black cowboy hat."

"Did this hat have a feather in it?"

"Yeah, sounds about right. Why, is he one of the dudes you're lookin' for?"

"Yes, that boy is Jack Marston."

"Oh, _that's_ why he looked so familiar!" The shopkeeper laughed. "I love the Marstons. They's always welcome at my store. You know, Jack's father…"

"I don't care to hear your stories," Nathan interrupted. "Did Jack say anything about where he was going next?"

"No, sir," the shopkeeper said. "Can't say he did. But he was talkin' to some other fellow when he walked out of the store."

"I'm guessing that other fellow is Cole Ricketts. He's another one of the men we're looking for."

"Cole Ricketts? Oh that Ricketts boy! Always getting' into trouble," the shopkeeper said comically. He laughed again. "His Pa was always gettin' after him for being a little rebel."

Nathan growled. "I don't care about that. When did you first see them come into town?"

"'Twas about a day or two ago. They hadn't been here long 'fore they left, sir."

"And are you aware that harboring fugitives carries a prison sentence of no less than six months?"

"Please, mister, I didn't know. I got a business to run. I can't go to jail. How could any of us have known? It ain't like criminals walk into town and yell 'Hey we're criminals! Harbor us!'"

"You really didn't know?"

"No, sir."

"And you don't know which direction they're headed."

"No, sir. They got out right quick when your posse rolled into town. Boy, we sure ain't seen a posse like yours in quite some time. I thought maybe there was a problem with them Injuns again, but I guess I was wrong. You know, sometimes…"

"Would you shut up already?" Nathan sneered, slamming his fist on the counter. "You've annoyed me enough."

The shopkeeper glared at Nathan as he walked out of the trading post and back to the posse. He informed them that he had no luck in getting any information from the shopkeeper. For the next half hour, the posse asked around town if the people knew the men and where they had run off to. They were able to corroborate the story that the shopkeeper had told, that Jack and Cole had been in the area since they had left Blackwater, they had been looking for a bounty that was captured before they arrived, and the townspeople didn't know of their fugitive status.

The sun was starting to set as Nathan sighed and leaned against a fence post. He looked to one of his men, George Yount, and asked, "What are we going to do? We have no leads."

"Come on, chief," Yount said. "You're a smart man. You always get your man. You'll come up with something."

"I just can't believe we were outsmarted by that Marston boy," Nathan said. "That no good hillbilly dumb shit! How does an insignificant little piss stain like him get away so easily?"

"He had a couple of the most experienced lawmen in the West helping him out," Yount reminded Nathan. "If it had just been him alone, we would have had him. As long as we can get the jump on all three of them, everything will work out."

"You're right," Nathan said. "I say it's high time we get back to our city. I got an idea on how we can find these men, but it's not an idea I can put into motion by myself. I'll need manpower, more than our police force alone can provide. But if my plan is set in place, it will be foolproof and we will soon bring an end to the Marston Menace and his entourage of traitorous former lawmen."


	3. Exodus in Rathskeller

**EXODUS IN RATHSKELLER**

After riding south for the rest of the day, the exhausted trio made camp at Greenhollow. They camped just south of an abandoned home, which was in ruins now. Jack boredly wandered around the ruin, curiously wondering what had caused the abandonment and destruction of the old home. The light of the moon illuminated Jack's path as he surveyed the ruins. He noticed a glimmer of light as he was walking past the home's chimney. He bent down to examine it and pulled a bottle of Nigel West Dickens' elixir out of the chimney. Smiling, Jack remembered the first and only time he had met Mr. West Dickens. He was glad he no longer had the desire to rob or kill innocent people.

Fordham approached Jack. "Be careful, Jack," he warned. "Rattlesnakes like to come out at this time of night."

"Do you by chance know what happened here?" Jack asked.

"Oh, yes, I remember it vividly," Fordham said. "Greenhollow used to be a ranch stead owned by a corrupt and adulterous rancher and his wife. One day his wife caught him cheating and she ended up killing him, setting the house on fire, and then turning a gun on herself. She just couldn't handle his lying and promiscuous ways anymore."

"Yikes," Jack said, wincing. "That don't sound too good."

"It wasn't," Fordham said. "I was one of the men who investigated the crime. It was a grisly scene, probably one of the most grisly I've witnessed. Revenge is an emotion that can consume even the noblest person."

"How much farther do we have to go before we reach Rathskeller Fork?" Jack asked.

"Rathskeller is still a long ways away," Fordham said. "Be patient, Jack. We'll be camping on the trail one more time before we're able to rest our heads at Rathskeller."

Cole watched from a distance as Jack and Fordham continued their conversation. He wasn't in the mood for talking to anyone. He got their camp fire going and rubbed his hands together. The nights were constantly becoming colder, and since Cole had been living in Mexico for several years, he would have to readjust to the more mild climate that came with living north of the border. He stared into the fire and thought about how ironic it was that he was now on the run from the very people he had allied himself with in Blackwater during his time as a US Marshal.

Before long, Jack and Fordham joined Cole and the three of them sat in silence for several minutes. They all understood the severity of the situation they were in; wanted by the law for illegitimate reasons, having to keep a low profile despite having other ambitions. This situation wasn't ideal for any of them, but it's the way it was now and they would have to make do with the situation at hand for now.

Jack broke the silence by asking, "Anyone got any interesting camp fire stories?"

"I got plenty of 'em, Jack," Cole said. "The stories I told you in Mexico barely scratch the surface of what I've been through. I'm sure Archer has plenty of stories as well."

"That I do," Fordham replied.

"What was the toughest outlaw you ever hunted?" Jack asked.

Fordham thought for a moment. "My toughest outlaw was probably Dutch van der Linde. The hunt that your father participated in, Jack. The final confrontation with van der Linde started in Blackwater when me, Edgar Ross, and John loaded a machine gun onto the back of an armored truck. We headed out to Great Plains near where it meets Tall Trees and met an army detachment. From there, Dutch knew we were coming and he sent a big group of his men to take us down."

"Wow," Jack said. "What happened next?"

"We believed they were retreating, and some of them were, but they also lured us into a trap. They had rigged the road with dynamite and they detonated it as our armored car passed by it. At that point we all hopped on horseback and rode to Dutch's hideout near Cochinay. After a very intense firefight, John told the other men to stay behind and was able to single-handedly chase Dutch into the cave system that runs around the hideout. I saw the two of them talking for a brief moment on top of a cliff. Then, Dutch just...fell backward. It was a suicide. Ross took John's gun and shot Dutch in the chest so that he could say he had been killed in the official report. It was then that I realized John was a changed man, and that's when I gained respect for the Marston family."

Cole smiled. "That's very touching, Archer. Now as for me...I'd say the toughest outlaw I've ever hunted was a man by the name of Stanley Mund."

"Haven't I heard you mention this guy before?" Jack asked.

"Yes," Cole said. "I might have mentioned him briefly during one of our conversations in Mexico. He used to run with a gang up near Blackwater, but my father and I were very efficient in dismantling his gang one by one. Pretty soon it was just him and another fellow. We only knew this other man by the name of Digby. The two men were the hardest to catch. Seemed like every time we would get close they would escape. We thought they might have been in cahoots with someone on the inside, but we could never prove it.

"My father and I spent years trying to find this guy. The last time either of us saw him was just before we moved to California with mother. We were doing some hunting near Armadillo when we saw him up on a ridge. Almost like he was taunting us. We chased him all the way to Gaptooth Ridge but we ended up losing sight of him near the old ghost town of Tumbleweed. It's been years since I seen him. To this day he's the only bounty my father and I failed to bring in."

"Gaptooth Ridge is where we're headed," Jack said.

"That's right, but it's been many years," Cole said. "I doubt he's stuck around. He'd be pretty foolish to stay in one place for too long. To my knowledge he's still a wanted man to this day, with a hefty bounty on his head."

Jack yawned. "Well maybe when this is over, we can go get him."

Cole chuckled slightly. "Yeah, Jack. Just maybe."

"We got a long ride ahead of us, gentlemen," Fordham said, also yawning. "Let's get some rest. We'll continue our ride at dawn. If we make good time we'll make it past Benedict Pass before we make camp again tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan," Jack said. The three men laid out their sleeping bags and laid down to rest. The warmth of the fire relaxed the men as they got some much needed and deserved sleep.

Cole was the first one awake the next morning, immediately followed by Fordham. The two men prepared the fire again and Cole left briefly to do some hunting. They were out of food and needed something to boost their strength for the long day's ride they had ahead of them. Jack woke up an hour after Fordham, just as Cole was returning with two big jackrabbits that he had shot. Jack helped Cole skin the rabbits while Fordham prepared the last of the coffee they had brought. The men worked in silence.

When the three men had finished their breakfast, they packed up camp and started out on the trail again. This time they headed west, past the dock at Brittlebrush Trawl and several miles south of Armadillo and MacFarlane Ranch. The morning was a cold one, but by early afternoon the temperatures had increased to a more comfortable level. A few clouds made their way across the sky, but outside of that it was a beautiful day.

The day's ride was uneventful, and the trio stopped for the night a mile north of Benedict Pass. Cole left again to hunt for dinner, returning with jackrabbits once more. Fordham explained that Rathskeller Fork was a few more hours away and that they should arrive by mid-morning the next day. The men went to sleep again after they had finished eating dinner.

Just as Fordham had predicted, by mid-morning, the trio was in Rathskeller Fork. Jack and Cole looked at the tiny town in awe. Its adobe and stucco construction was like something right out of Mexico. Almost as if someone had taken a Mexican village and placed it well north of the Mexican border in the United States. In the center of town was a corral, and to the west and northwest were two large building complexes. One of these buildings had a saloon, the other was probably where the loose group of lawmen was based, as there was a wanted poster hanging on a bulletin board and a star symbol hung on the door.

Jack whistled at the sight of Rathskeller Fork. "Cole, what was that you said about not runnin' away to Mexico every time you're wanted?" Jack joked.

Cole smiled. "I guess you got me there, Jack. Reminds me of Chuparosa."

"It does, doesn't it?" Fordham asked. The trio led their horses to the corral. Cole pulled out a $20 gold piece and handed it to the stable boy. The boy eagerly took the money, which was more than enough to cover the cost of keeping their horses, and the three men walked to the center of town.

"Now what?" Jack asked.

"We'll be here a while," Fordham said. "To pass the time I think we should get jobs. Let's ask around and see if there's anything available around here."

"Don't use your real names," Cole said. "We don't want to risk anything leading the law here. We should come up with aliases."

"Smart," Jack said.

"Only business in town appears to be the saloon," Fordham said. "Let's see if they've got anything for us." The trio walked into the saloon and had a look around. The room had a single blackjack table, the bar, and a few other simple furnishings. A grand piano stood in a corner beside the mahogany bar and the bartender was dressed in a nice button-up shirt and a vest. One man sat at the blackjack table, and he eyed the newcomers warily as they approached the bartender.

"Excuse us," Fordham began, "we're new to town. Do you know if there is any work available?"

"Well, since yer new here, allow me to interduce meself," the bartender said. He spoke with a thick Irish accent and appeared to be in his early sixties. "Me name's Chester, and dat man at de blackjack table is ol' Mister Forbes. He's anoder one of da locals 'round here. You'll see him a lot. Da man dealin' cards is Mickey, me best mate. As fer work, well, we's always lookin' fer more bartenders. Mickey and meself are da only ones 'round here at de moment. We gots a grand piano over dere, but no one can play it. If'n one of ye's is a piano player I could pay you quite hansomely fer yer skills."

"I could offer my services as your pianist," Fordham said, "and my friend here, Lawrence, can tend bar." Fordham motioned toward Cole, who tipped his hat.

"Lawrence Graham at your disposal, sir," Cole said.

"My name is Richard Turner, and the boy's name is Edward Scott," Fordham continued. "Do you have any work for the boy?"

"Well..." Chester thought for a moment. "Dose are de only positions I have at de moment. But I'm sure we can find some work fer de young feller. Maybe de stable master is hirin'. Dere's always plenty o' work out here. Of course, if de boy is a daring one, he cen always hunt bounties." Chester chuckled at the thought of a seemingly young and unskilled boy hunting the dangerous bounties wanted by the law at Rathskeller.

Jack glared daggers at Chester. "I'll have you know, mister..." he began.

"Take it easy, Eddie," Fordham said, pushing Jack back with his arm. "Sorry about the boy, he's got a bit of a temper."

"Oh dat's quite alright. I was a spritely young feller meself once," Chester said. "Lawrence, me boy, come to da udder side-a da bar. I'll teach ye everyting you needs to know. Ricky, sir, show me yer piano playin' skills. And sweet little Eddie, let me get ya a gat."

Fordham approached the piano and sat down, while Cole joined Chester and Jack took a seat at the bar. Cole grabbed a bottle of whiskey, twirled it around a bit while he reached for a shot glass, and poured Jack a perfect shot in less than five seconds.

Fordham froze before he started playing, having seen this impressive show of skill. Chester laughed and said, "Oh boyo, I didn't know ya had it in ya! Where'd ya learn how to do dat?"

"I used to tend bar back East," Cole said. Jack couldn't tell if this was some kind of cover story, but he figured it had some grain of truth to it. How else would Cole have known how to do that? Jack took his shot as Fordham focused his attention on the piano again. He began to play a cheery sounding tune, and even started to sing.

 _What's that sneaky, freaky, creepy melody?  
It just takes me, makes me restless as can be  
It goes to my heart, my head, my feet.  
I'll give anybody in the house my seat.  
I want to dance, dance, dance, dance, dance till I drop.  
I don't ever want to stop this ragging._

 _Everybody rag with me, everybody drag with me.  
I've learned these dips and skips and dreamy hesitations.  
I could dance til day is dawning,  
Then I want to dance all morning.  
Everybody sway with me,  
Drop your work and play with me.  
I don't want to hear any opera grand,  
Ragtime music, that's what I understand!  
I want everybody in the world to rag with me._

 _Sousa's clever but he never played like this.  
This just thrills me and it fills me full of bliss;  
There it goes again! That sweet refrain!  
Every note reminds me of an Angel strain!  
Come on and dance, dance, dance, dance, then dance some more,  
We'll wear out this old pine floor completely.  
Oh everybody rag with me!_

Once Fordham finished his tune, Jack and Cole applauded. Chester smiled. "You men are mysterious, but 'tis a fine stroke of luck you decided to walk into me seeloon today," he said.

Fordham began playing another cheerful tune. Jack and Cole listened intently. They didn't notice that a new person had entered the saloon. This man was tall and thin, wearing a double barrel shotgun on his back, a wide brimmed hat, and a bandanna on his face. He wasn't carrying a pistol on his hip, but he did have a very large Bowie knife strapped to his belt. The man was looking for trouble and was a common sight in Rathskeller. He had quite the bad reputation, but unfortunately for him, he had chosen the wrong day to enter the saloon.

The man drew his shotgun and fired a shot in the air. Fordham stopped playing and everyone in the bar turned their attention to this man. He looked at Chester and Cole and demanded, "Lay down your weapons." Chester quickly complied but Cole prepared to draw his revolver. Seeing this, the stranger prepared to shoot but was caught off guard by Jack, who very quickly drew his Schofield revolver and fired a shot. It was over as quick as it had begun. The man fell dead to the floor.

"So much for keeping a low profile," Jack muttered under his breath.

 **Hey guys, so sorry for taking so long to upload the next chapter. I had four or so chapters prepared not long after I uploaded the second one, and they were all ready to go, but my computer crashed and I lost all my work. I kind of lost the motivation to work on this at that point and focused on other things in my life. I began to miss it, though, and after reading a few positive reviews of my story, I decided to get right back into the game. I was able to recover my story plan that I drew up, as well as some of my story notes, so I'm working on recreating the chapters I lost. This was the only one I managed to fully recover with few changes, as it was saved on a second laptop. The Chase will continue, and it will be finished. Stay tuned for the next installment, and thanks for reading!**

 **One other thing. The song that Fordham sang is called "Everybody Rag With Me" and was one of the most popular tavern tunes in 1914. I like to combine my love of** ** _Red Dead Redemption_** **with my love of history whenever I can.**


	4. Thirst For Revenge

**THIRST FOR REVENGE**

Chester grabbed his rifle and approached the deceased outlaw. He poked at him a few times then said, "You...you killed 'im. Why..."

"I'm sorry..." Jack began.

"Sorry?" Chester laughed. "Dis man was a murderer, a crooked tief! You just killed one of da most dangerous men in Rat'skeller Fark! Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Where did ya learn to use yer guns like that, boyo?"

"Uh..." Jack couldn't think of a good cover story.

"To be honest, I'm just as shocked as you are," Cole interjected. "Kid's never shot at a man in his life. I guess he got lucky."

"Oh yes, I'd say he's one lucky gobshite to go against an outlaw like dat man! Boyo, I'm going te buy you yer next jar."

"Oh, uh...thanks," Jack said. "I ain't one to turn down free booze." Chester went into the back room for a brief moment, then returned with a mug of frothy beer. Jack grabbed the mug and took a big swig. Jack exhaled and added, "It's good. Thank you."

"Don't mention it, boyo," Chester said. "Dat dere is me special brew. Came up wit de recipe in Ireland, I did. Now, Lawrence, I'll need you ta dispose of da body. Havin' a dead outlaw on da floor ain't good fer business, even in Rat'skeller Fark."

"With pleasure," Cole said. He approached the dead outlaw, threw him on his back, and fireman carried him out of the saloon. The man who had been sitting at the blackjack table suddenly stood up and approached Jack. He sat down next to him and gave him a strange look. He had long, greasy blond hair, a beat up white hat, and a dirty button up shirt with red suspenders and the top three buttons undone. He stank horribly and Jack could tell he, too, was trouble.

"The hell do you want from me?" Jack asked rudely.

"Name's Forbes," the man said, ignoring Jack's question. "Harlan Forbes. And that there was my friend you killed."

Jack gave Forbes a dark look. "Well, Mr. Forbes, you saw what I did to your friend there. I ain't afraid to do the same to you."

Forbes put his arm around Jack and laughed. "Oh I like you already, kiddo," he said. "Chester, git yer Mick ass over here and pour a couple'a shots of my usual fer me and my new friend."

"What did I tell you about usin' dose racial slang words, Forbes?" Chester asked angrily.

"Just git us those shots," Forbes said, dismissing Chester's question with a wave of his hand. Chester growled but complied, grabbing an unlabeled bottle of whiskey and pouring two shots. He slid the alcohol towards Forbes but stopped just shy of his grasp.

"Now what do we say before I give you dese drinks?" Chester asked.

"I'm sorry, sir," Forbes said insincerely.

Chester sighed. "Good enough."

Forbes picked up his shot glass and raised it in the air. "Cheers to the death of that dumbass bastard I had the misfortune of knowing."

"I thought he was your friend?" Jack asked.

"He was," Forbes said. "A friend in arms. Was a Treasure Hunter, he was. But I wouldn't buy that man a drink if someone paid me to. But I'll buy you all the drinks you want, boy." Forbes leaned in close again, prompting Jack to push him away. Forbes fell over, dropping his shot on his way down.

Fordham noticed the commotion and approached them. "I'm sorry, Mr. Forbes, but Eddie isn't interested in your advances."

"Why? Are you two lovers?" Forbes asked as he propped himself up. He sat back down and pushed Jack's shot closer to him. "I ain't got a drink no more, but you do. Drink up."

"Sorry, I ain't interested in socializin' with you," Jack said. "Get away from me or I might not be responsible for my actions."

"Alcohol is a good social lubricant," Forbes said. "You'll warm up to me in no time. Everyone does. Now drink up." Jack sighed but did not protest further as he lifted the shot glass to his lips and let the whiskey cascade down his throat. Immediately Jack went wide eyed and coughed. The whiskey tasted horrible and burned like sandpaper scratching its way down his esophagus. Forbes howled with laughter and Chester smiled.

"Dat's me special whiskey," Chester said. "Dey call it Irish Death Wish out here."

"I think I'll stick to your beer next time," Jack said.

Cole returned at that moment and went back to his post behind the bar. He noticed Forbes sitting there and said, "You're a wanted man, Harlan Forbes. Just got back from the law office. The dead man was a member of the Treasure Hunter gang. So are you."

"You ain't no undercover Pink, is you?" Forbes asked.

"No sir," Cole said in an even tone. "I just call it like I see it. It's just that we're going to be here a spell, so maybe you could help me figure out how things work out here."

"What's this information worth to ya?" Forbes asked.

"I'll let you live," Cole said.

Forbes took several seconds to respond. "Aight," he said. "What you wanna know?"

"Who are the Treasure Hunters?"

"Well they's the gang that controls the place. Least they think they do. Every month they come and they collect money from the law office, in exchange for leavin' the town alone."

"So it's a protection racket," Cole observed.

"I guess so," Forbes said.

"How long has this been going on?"

"You sure are askin' a lot of questions. Sure you ain't no Pink gonna turn me in when you're through with me?"

"I just want to know what life in this town is like," Cole said. "Relax. Would you like another drink?"

"I surely would," Forbes said. "And my buddy here next to me will have the same."

"I ain't your buddy!" Jack exclaimed.

Forbes laughed. "Come on, buddy, don't go bein' like that! Remember who's buyin' the drinks 'round here."

Cole poured a couple more shots of Irish Death Wish and handed them to Jack and Forbes. Forbes attempted to lift his glass in a toast but Jack just glared at him angrily and shook his head. Forbes sighed and poured the shot into his mouth while still raising the glass. Most of the whiskey made it; but a few drops went into his eyes.

"Well dat burns like a mudderfucker!" Forbes exclaimed, imitating Chester's accent.

"Knock it off Forbes!" Chester yelled. "Remember who yer dealin' with now! I'll be kickin' yer arse to da street if'n ye don't stop!"

"Alright, fine," Forbes said, sighing. "Still stings."

"Probably not as bad as my nose," Jack quipped. "What is up with your stench?"

"Hey, play nice, Eddie," Cole said. "Let me get you a towel, Mr..."

"Oh, Forbes. Harlan Forbes." Forbes took the towel that Cole gave him and wiped his eyes. He blinked a few times then handed the rag back to Cole.

"What else you wanna know?" Forbes asked.

"Where are the Treasure Hunters holed up?"

"You'd be a fool to chase after 'em," Forbes said. "But they's holed up in the old mine complex at Gaptooth Breach. They's lookin' for some sort of treasure or mother lode up there, but they ain't been successful, so that's why they take to collect moneys from Rathskeller Fork here. They get their money, the town don't get wasted. Seems like a fair exchange, now don't it?"

"In a messed up way," Cole said.

"Kiddo, you still haven't drank your shot," Forbes slurred. "Come now. Drink up like a good little boy."

Jack picked up his shot glass, but instead of drinking the shot, he splashed it in Forbes's face. Forbes grimaced and winced, falling backward once more. Fordham returned to the scene and restrained Jack before he could do anything else.

"That's enough!" Fordham exclaimed. "I think it's time for you to leave, Mr. Forbes."

Forbes stumbled back up and swayed drunkenly back and forth. "I ain't goin' 'til the Mick tells me to."

Chester grabbed the shotgun that hung behind the bar and fired a shot toward Forbes. "I've had enough racist gobshite fer one afternoon! Git outta me seeloon!"

"Alright, fine, fine." Forbes waddled back and forth as he struggled to reach the doorway. He propped himself up against the bar for support, then made one final push toward the door. As soon as he crossed the threshold into the outside world, he vomited.

"Thank god," Jack said.

"And you," Chester said, focusing his attention on Eddie. "Yer punk attitude doesn't belong in me establishment. We clear?"

"Yes sir," Jack said quietly. He didn't quite understand why, but he found Chester to be somewhat intimidating.

"Good boy."

As the afternoon transitioned into the evening, many of the local ranchers hung up their hats and entered the bar. Fordham kept the men entertained with lively tunes, Cole with tasty libations, and Jack with interesting conversations about his "Mexican vacation". The evening passed by quickly, and by the time the clock struck midnight, the last few cowpokes left and it was time to go home.

Jack, Cole, and Fordham had made arrangements with Chester to stay in one of the rooms adjacent to the saloon. It was normally reserved for "fine ladies", according to Chester, but none had been through for the last six months. The trio took off their boots and Jack was about to rest his head when Cole spoke up.

"Just a moment, Jack. We need to discuss our next move."

"Next move?" Jack asked. "I thought we was layin' low for a while."

"We are," Cole said. "I mean what we're going to do about the Treasure Hunters."

"What _can_ we do about the Treasure Hunters?" Fordham asked. "We would be three men going up against an entire gang. I'm not exactly liking our odds there."

"Never stopped me before," Cole said.

"Listen, I understand why you want to go for them. My instinct tells me to, too. It's hard to shut off that hard-wired lawman drive. But you have to, Cole. We can't draw any attention to ourselves. Nothing can lead Covington to Rathskeller Fork. If these local lawmen notice us hunting this gang of outlaws, and they start talking, word could get out."

"I have to try," Cole said.

"Why? What's so important about this gang?" Jack asked.

"Their leader."

There was silence. "Their leader? Who's their leader?" Fordham asked.

"It's...it's Stanley Mund. He's still here."

"Stanley Mund? _The_ Stanley Mund?" Jack asked, astonished. "Your nemesis Stanley Mund? Why would he stick around for so long?"

"Maybe he didn't. Maybe he just returned. I don't know. None of that matters. He's the only outlaw that escaped my Pa and myself. I'd be doing my Pa an injustice by not going after him."

"You would be doing _yourself_ an injustice if you did," Fordham argued. "As your friends we can't let you rush into a situation like that."

"We are not discussing this. You're either with me or you're not. Alone or with you, it doesn't matter to me. Whether I die or not is irrelevant. Long as I can take Stanley out, I'll have the last laugh."

"Dead men can't laugh," Jack said.

"Neither of you can convince me to let it go. Will you help me or not?"

Jack looked at Cole in shock. Cole, the man who had helped him through his own emotional rough patch, now seemed to be going through one of his own. What was the true cause? Why was Cole acting so rashly? Surely he had to know that this was one of the most ridiculous things he could do at this moment. He wasn't stupid, so why was he acting stupid?

"I'll always be by your side, Cole," Jack said. "But think about this."

"I already have. Fordham, you with me?"

"You've put me in a difficult position, Cole Ricketts," Fordham said. "We're safer together than we would be apart."

"Alright then." Cole took a bottle of Irish Death Wish from his satchel and popped the cork. "Gentlemen, let's drink to it. Let's have a toast to the downfall of Stanley Mund."


	5. The Hunt For The Three Amigos

**THE HUNT FOR THE THREE AMIGOS**

"Let's review the events that have transpired over the last several days. Jack Marston and Cole Ricketts assisted Archer Fordham in escaping custody of the Blackwater Police Department. Our posse tracked the trio to Manzanita, where they evaded capture after a hard pursuit. We interviewed the residents of Manzanita and were not able to ascertain any further information that could lead us to the trio's whereabouts. I have a plan, but does anyone else have any additional suggestions?"

Nathan Covington was addressing a group of a dozen lawmen in his office. George Yount, Covington's deputy, was present, as was Zachary Brandt, a high ranking officer who had sent the bounty hunter Walter Morris to Mexico to apprehend Jack just a month ago. The group of lawmen were discussing their game plan in regards to how they were going to bring in Jack, Cole, and Fordham. Covington knew that he was going up against two of the most experienced lawmen Blackwater had ever seen, so he figured it would take more time and effort to find them than run-of-the-mill fugitive outlaws.

"We could create wanted posters," Yount suggested. "Post them all over the area."

"That's a start," Covington said, "but it won't be enough. They'd be foolish to remain in West Elizabeth, and that's the only jurisdiction we have as far as wanted posters are concerned."

"What would the wanted poster say?" Brandt asked.

"You'd better write this down," Covington responded. Brandt grabbed a pen and some paper. "Fugitives wanted – Jack Marston, Cole Ricketts, Archer Fordham. Wanted for destruction of property, assault on law officers, and evasion of the law. Bounty set at $250 per person."

"Could we also contact New Austin's marshals and request that they keep an eye out for these three men?" Brandt asked.

"That's another good idea," Covington said. "As soon as you create those wanted posters, advise the telegrapher to send the same message to all law enforcement outfits in New Austin. Then put up the wanted posters at all train stations and major towns in the state."

"Yes sir," Brandt said. He left the room.

"As for everyone else," Covington began, "I would like you to slowly begin searching all the towns within the West Elizabeth and New Austin areas. Team up with local law enforcement and do what you can to gather support along the way. In the off chance that you do end up finding the men, they likely won't go down without a fight. You'll need all the help you can get. Archer and Cole were two of our best men, and as you know, though young he may be, Jack Marston's not a bad shot either.

"Mr. Yount, you will be in charge of this posse. I would like you to start in New Austin and be as thorough as possible. Go all the way to Rathskeller Fork if you must. We'll have the wanted posters up out here in West Elizabeth, so the independent bounty hunters out there will take care of searching this area for now. You will depart at first light tomorrow. Are there any questions?"

"No sir," Yount responded. "Your directions are quite clear."

"Excellent," Covington said. "The formal election for Blackwater's new chief of police is next month. Please do everything you can to ensure the men are captured by then. If you are successful, my election is assured, and believe me, each of you will be handsomely rewarded. You're dismissed."

Just as Covington directed, Yount was up before first light the next day preparing his men for departure. The well armed posse consisted of the eleven officers present at the previous day's meeting (minus Brandt) and nine others. Each man carried a Bowie knife, an Evans Repeater, and a standard issue high power pistol. Additionally, several pack saddles were filled with spare weapons and one man even decided to bring a couple sticks of dynamite. The posse was very serious and determined to bring in the fugitives by any means necessary.

Yount addressed his men before they departed. "Alright men, keep your eyes open. The first part of our mission will be to interact with all marshals office on the road from here to Rathskeller Fork. Our first stop will be the MacFarlane Ranch, which we should reach in just a few short hours. We'll spend the night in Armadillo tonight and will camp just outside of Rathskeller Fork tomorrow night. Does anybody have any concerns before we leave?" When nobody responded, Yount said, "Alright, let's move out!"

At the MacFarlane Ranch, Bonnie MacFarlane walked from the ranch house to the train station, intending to grab the day's messages for the ranch. Despite having been married for a year now, she refused to leave the ranch. Her father's physical condition was getting worse, and since he refused to leave the ranch, she knew it was up to her to take care of him and the ranch's business. It wasn't the life she wanted for her and her husband, but it was the life she was used to. Her husband, Mark Champion, was very supportive and told her that he would patiently await the day they could leave Hennigan's Stead for good.

The telegrapher tipped his hat as Bonnie walked in. "Afternoon, Miss Bonnie!" he said cheerfully.

"And a good afternoon to you, sir," Bonnie responded. "Got any messages for me today?"

"That I do," the telegrapher responded. He pulled out a few messages that the previous shift had written down. "Let's see here...got one from Mr. Prescott offerin' to buy some of the grain." He handed this one to Bonnie. "There's one from...oh. Oh my."

"What's that mean?" Bonnie asked. When the telegrapher didn't respond, Bonnie added, "Come on, tell me! Is something wrong?"

"You're not gonna like this..." the telegrapher said, handing Bonnie a message from Blackwater Police. Bonnie read the message aloud.

Fugitives wanted – Jack Marston, Cole Ricketts, Archer Fordham. What...Jack Marston? John Marston's boy? Wanted for...let's see, destruction of property, assault on law officers, evasion of the law? How...how could this happen? After all John did to set his family on the right path. Course, I suppose this kind of thing runs in the blood. What a stupid boy."

"Bonnie? Are you alright?" the telegrapher asked.

"I..." Memories of her encounters with John flooded her mind for the first time in years. She had worked so hard to forget him, for her sake; and now his son's name was being wired to every marshal's office in the area. "I got to take this to the foreman's office. As much as I don't want to believe it...they gotta catch John Marston's boy and set him straight."

By the time Bonnie reached the foreman's office, Yount's posse had already arrived. Drew MacFarlane was with them. "Ah, here she is now, the matriarch of the ranch herself," Yount said. "You must be Bonnie MacFarlane."

"That's _Mrs._ MacFarlane to you," Bonnie said darkly.

"Ease up on the attitude, missy. We come in peace. I'm George Yount, deputy to the Blackwater Chief of Police. I'm leading a posse to hunt three dangerous fugitives, but since you're holding our telegraph, I assume you're already aware of that."

Bonnie was silent.

"Ah, well, that's no matter. I was just here to ask your father if you can spare any help in our pursuit."

"And I told you to get lost," Drew said angrily. "We don't want no government interference in our lives on the ranch. We need all the men we have to stop the rustlers that are still plaguing our farm. Rustlers that wouldn't be there if you would do the damn jobs our taxes pay for!" Drew slammed his fist on the wall and groaned as pain surged through his shoulder.

"Pa! Take it easy!" Bonnie said.

"Mr. MacFarlane, calm down and listen to reason," Yount said. "We _are_ doing what your taxes pay for. We're keeping the people safe by bringing in several dangerous fugitives of the law. Archer Fordham and Cole Ricketts were two of the best our agencies had to offer. To even think about what they're capable of now that they're on the other side of the law...it sickens me. They need to be put out of commission before they become more dangerous."

Drew softened his tone a little. "Look. Clearly my anger isn't gonna make you go away. I'm sorry, but we really can't spare any of the marshals stationed here. That's a fact. They've got their hands tied keeping our ranch safe. If things quiet down we'll be the first to let you know."

Yount narrowed his eyes but didn't argue any further. "Fine. Have a pleasant day, Mr. MacFarlane. You too, _Bonnie_." Yount and his entourage left the foreman's office.

"Bonnie...I was hopin' to be the one to tell you the news," Drew began. He walked over to Bonnie and embraced her. "I'm sorry."

"I just...never thought I'd hear about the Marstons again," Bonnie said. "I assumed Jack...he had a bright future ahead of him, Pa. Now he's an arrogant fool like his father was when he was his age."

"I know, Bonnie. I know."

"When they capture him...if they capture him...you know, alive...I want to see him. I want to tell him just how stupid and foolish he is. Knock some sense into him like I knocked some sense into his father."

"I think I can make that happen, Bonnie," Drew said. "Don't you worry your pretty little head. Now come on. Chores still need to get done."

"Yes, father," Bonnie said. The two left the foreman's office just in time to watch the posse disappear over the hill on the road to Armadillo.

Armadillo Marshal Eli Thompson gazed out the window of the marshal's office as the sun began to set. He sipped a mug full of hot coffee and enjoyed the peaceful evening. For once, not a single crime had been committed in Armadillo that day, the first time something like this had happened since he took charge upon Marshal Leigh Johnson's retirement. There was still a lot of work to be done, especially concerning his still lazy deputy Jonah, but right now, Eli felt hope.

After several minutes of staring at the sunset, Eli sighed and sat down at his desk. He looked to his left, where a drunk member of the Walton Gang arrested the day before slept, and focused on writing the day's activity log. This would be the shortest entry in his journal. Jonah entered the office just as Eli was finishing up.

"Mornin'," Jonah said.

"Mornin'? Jonah, the sun's setting! It's damn near night time now! Where have you been?"

"Down at the telegraph office," Jonah said. "We gots a message from Blackwater about some dengerous fugitives on the run. And woo wee! You wouldn't believe one of the names on that there telegraph!"

Eli sighed. "Jonah...that's okay. I'm sure you didn't mean to be so caught up over there. Lemme see that telegraph." Jonah handed Eli the telegraph and he read aloud: "Fugitives wanted – Jack Marston, Cole Ricketts, Archer Ford...wait, Marston? _Marston_? _Jack Marston_?"

"Told you you wouldn't believe it," Jonah said, smirking.

"Says here Jack Marston is wanted for destruction of property, assault on law officers, and evasion of the law. Jonah, you know who this Jack Marston kid is?"

"Could be relations to John Marston, that government boy from a few years ago."

"That's his son," Eli said. "Wonder why his son would do a thing like that." Just after Eli finishd speaking, the heavy sound of horse hooves filled the air. Eli was afraid that it was an outlaw gang riding into town, which would ruin the perfectly nice day that law enforcement had seen. He stepped out onto the front porch, and by what little sunlight was left could see that it was a posse of lawmen dressed in Blackwater police uniforms.

"Jonah, we got company!" Eli called out. George Yount and his posse stopped right outside the marshal's office and faced Eli. Jonah slowly walked out and leaned against the doorway.

"What you want?" Jonah asked.

"Good evening," Yount said, tipping his hat. "You must be Marshal Eli Thompson. I'm deputy police chief George Yount. Did you receive our telegraph about a trio of wanted outlaws?"

"Yes sir," Eli said. "What can I do to help?"

"Good, a man who actually wants to know how to help us. That's a refreshing change of pace. We're going to need all the manpower we can muster for this mission. Cole Ricketts and Archer Fordham are likely going to be very difficult and dangerous to bring in. Do you have any men to spare?"

"We got our hands tied with crime in Armadillo right now," Eli said, shaking his head. "Things are gettin' better every day, but I don't think that trend will keep up if we send some of our men away."

"That's alright," Yount said. "I just thought you'd like the chance to be a hero."

"A hero?" The always gullible Eli was intrigued at the thought. He looked at Jonah, who was also smiling.

"Hero, you say?" Jonah asked.

Yount grinned. He had them. "Oh absolutely. There's no doubt this story will hit the papers at some point. Two lawmen turning against their former brothers-in-arms. Anyone who helps catch these men will go down in the history books. In a hundred years, they'll be telling the story of how the brave lawmen from Armadillo helped the posse that took down these anti-heroes. What do you say? Ready to make history?"

Eli smiled. "Take all the men you need."

"Good. I still want to make sure Armadillo is well protected, so I'll be taking five of your men with me. Does that sound reasonable?"

"Jonah, we're gonna be famous!" Eli exclaimed.

"That's nice," Jonah said casually. He grabbed a can of chewing tobacco from his pocket and popped some in his mouth. "That's real nice."

"Thank you, gentlemen, for your help. We'll be off now." Yount faced his men and addressed them directly. "We'll be staying in Armadillo for the night, boys. The saloon is just down the road. Don't get too rowdy now, and don't get too drunk. We'll need you at your best to continue the search. But we won't get another chance to live it up until these men are brought to justice. So go have a ball!"

Yount's men cheered and flocked to the saloon as he went back into the marshal's office and got the names of five officers from Eli. He then went door-to-door to each officer's house and invited them to the saloon for a celebratory drink before the long, hard ride ahead of them. With his team fully assembled and ready for whatever lay ahead, Yount himself was satisfied and joined in on the celebration.


	6. Bitter Reunion

**BITTER REUNION**

Just outside of Tumbleweed, Harlan Forbes lay spread eagle on the ground, his horse waiting patiently for him to wake up. It had been several hours since he had been kicked out of the saloon in Rathskeller Fork and it was typical of him to pass out drunk before returning to Gaptooth Breach. The Treasure Hunters had picked up on these habits of his, and they always sent one of their memebrs to Tumbleweed to get him if he didn't return before sundown. Today the task fell on Lester Dugan, one of the toughest but crankiest members of the gang. He grumbled to himself as he approached Forbes, always resenting Stanley for sending him on these rescue missions. He almost felt like shooting Forbes on account of how useless he was, but for some reason Stanley wanted him around.

"Wake up you useless sack o' shit!" Lester yelled, kicking Forbes roughly in the side. Forbes groaned, coughed, and puked a little bit before rolling over and waving Lester away.

"I'm nappin'," Forbes said quietly.

"God damn it, Forbes, wake up now or I'll make yer nap permanent!" Lester hissed. Forbes growled but said nothing more as he attempted to stand. He wavered around a bit but finally found his footing. Lester stood to the side as he watched Forbes weakly attempt to climb back on his horse. After several unsuccessful tries, Lester stepped in and half helped, half threw Forbes onto his horse.

"Lester, you always was a sweetheart," Forbes said.

"Hush up, you pathetic desert rat," Lester said harshly. "Let's git you back to the boss."

Lester and Forbes slowly made their way to Gaptooth Breach. Lester rode right alongside Forbes, ready to catch him if he passed out again. Forbes struggled to stay awake but was starting to come to his senses a little bit. The effects of the alcohol were beginning to wear off. Neither man spoke a word for the duration of the trip, and by the time they reached Gaptooth Breach, every other man had already gone to bed. Except Stanley. He had decided to keep guard for the night.

Stanley watched the pair ride into camp, and he said, "Lester, Forbes, good to see you lads again."

"Hello, boss," Lester said. Though he had a temper, he was always cordial and loyal to Stanley. "I brought Forbes back like you asked."

"Thank you, Lester," Stanley said. "Get off to bed now. Let me have a word with Forbes alone." Lester complied and Stanley approached Forbes. He helped him off his horse and led him to an abandoned stamp mill nearby.

"How's...hic...it goin', Stanley?" Forbes asked casually.

"You tell me," Stanley responded. "How was your most recent stakeout at Rathskeller? Anything new to report?"

"Well...I don't remember much of it," Forbes confessed. "I met a new friend and we had a few drinks together and...well...I don't remember much of anything. Can barely even remember comin' back here, actually."

"I need you to focus," Stanley said patiently. "There are plenty of others here who would be more than happy to be my eyes and ears in this territory, but I chose you because you're so unassuming. No one would suspect a drunk like you. Now...you say you met a new friend. Who was it?"

"I dunno, some feller named Eddie I think."

"And? What was this Eddie like?"

"Ah, just another one of them dumb kids with an attitude. Think they know better than everyone else."

"Well, that don't sound too out of the ordinary. Was that all?"

Forbes hiccuped again. "Well, there was also this new bartender. And a new piano player. They came in with the boy. Sorry, boss, I don't remember much of them. Except the bartender was askin' all sorts of questions 'bout the gang."

"Hm..." Stanley thought for a moment. "Three new people roll into Rathskeller Fork out of the blue and start asking questions about us. Don't happen often. It could be a marshal's party scouting us out, or it could be the Pinkertons again. We should keep an extra eye out now to be safe."

"Oh! I just remembered, boss. Mikey came into the saloon lookin' for trouble like always. But the kid shot him dead."

Stanley's eyes narrowed. "And you didn't think to tell me this until now?"

"Boss, ya gotta understand, I weren't of sound mind when I was there. Still ain't. Please forgive me."

"I was wondering why we hadn't seen Mikey tonight," Stanley said darkly. "I knew his rough ways would get him killed. This changes everything. We're gonna do more than just reconnaissance tomorrow. We're gonna avenge Mikey's death. We're gonna find the kid who killed him...your 'drinking buddy'...and we're gonna kill him."

"Yes sir," Forbes said. "That everything?"

"No," Stanley said. "Just one more thing. If you _ever_ pull a stunt like this again, you will be dealt with. Swiftly and painfully. I'm a patient man, Forbes, but I'm getting tired of your shit. You're dancing on my last nerve. _Don't_ fail me again." Stanley stood up and turned to go, but before he left, he added, "Be ready to join us tomorrow. You'll run point so's we can find this kid. After we collect our fee, we're collecting a bounty."

" _Pa, is that who I think it is?"_

" _Sure looks like it. Come on, boy! Now's our chance!"_

Cole woke up from the flashback dream he had been having and looked around. The first rays of sunlight came into the room from a nearby window, bathing the trio in a beautiful golden light. Fordham and Jack were both still sound asleep so Cole was careful not to wake them as he pulled on a pair of jeans and a tan button-up shirt. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, took a match out of his pants pocket, and walked outside as he lit one of the cigarettes. It was the perfect morning for a smoke; after all, they were about to embark on a journey to take down his sworn enemy. The one that got away from him and Landon Ricketts all those years ago.

The plan was simple. Jack, Cole, and Fordham were to sneak into the camp that night and as stealthily as possible find where Stanley slept. Cole would do the deed of killing Stanley while Fordham and Jack kept guard outside. Then they would leave as quickly as possible, hopefully avoiding as much bloodshed as they could manage. It was a risky plan with a lot of potential for failure, but Cole was determined to end Stanley and his smug reign of terror once and for all.

Cole sighed and took a long drag of his cigarette. He exhaled and watched tendrils of smoke ascend to the sky. Thoughts of his past sped through his mind like horses at a racetrack; all the things he had done, the outlaws he had hunted, the people he had hunted them with. Images of his bounties, his partners. His father. Cole sucked in a deep breath when his father came to mind. Though he never openly admitted it to anyone and always played it cool when asked, he deeply missed his father. He wished things between them hadn't ended the way they did. A single, small tear fell from the corner of Cole's eye.

Lost in his thoughts, Cole didn't hear someone approaching him. All he felt was a hand on his shoulder. Instinctively, he grabbed the unknown person's wrist and twisted their arm behind their back. Cehster yelped in surprise and Cole immediately let go of him.

"Good God, boyo, what's got into ye?" Chester asked.

"I'm so sorry, Chester!" Cole apologized. "I didn't know it was you."

"You sure are a jumpy fella this mornin'." Chester chuckled. "You almost gave me a heart attack. I just saw you outside and you had an awful glum look on yer face. Mind tellin' me what yer thinkin' 'bout?"

Cole sighed. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Chester. A lot you'll probably never know about me."

"I take it that's yer cryptic way of tellin' me to buzz off?"

"Not at all. I just met you, is all. It'll take time before I'm ready to open up."

"Alright, boyo, dat's fine. I'm about to open the seeloon if yer willin' to start early. Git yer mind offa things."

"Thank you, Chester, I would love to." Cole put out his cigarette and stuck it behind his ear. Chester led him to the bar and the two men worked on putting the bar together. Cole pushed his previous thoughts to the back of his mind. He couldn't let those feelings of his past affect his work in the present. Tonight, he would get his peace of mind back. Tonight, it would all end.

Fordham and Jack were both awake by mid-morning. Jack looked at Cole's empty bed and a worried expression came over his face. Cole was definitely going through something, but what? And how could Jack help his best friend?

Fordham, too, was concerned. "You're thinking about Cole, aren't you?" he asked.

"I just don't know what's got into him," Jack said.

"It could be all the stress that comes with being on the run," Fordham said. "For the longest time I could only imagine how hellish it is to constantly be on the run and always having to watch your back. Now that I'm actually living that lifestyle, well, to be honest, I'm not a fan."

"I ain't either," Jack said. "Come on. Let's stop feelin' sorry for ourselves and let's get to the bar." Fordham and Jack got out of bed, stretched, put on some clothes, and made their way to the bar. They were both worried about what would come later that night, but like Cole, they decided to just focus on other things.

No sooner had Fordham and Jack entered the saloon than Stanley and his men made it to Rathskeller Fork. As was customary, Stanley put five men at each entrance to the town and led the remaining twenty-five to the law office. This is how Stanley always did things; he was very strategic and thorough in the execution of his plans. This time, however, he also sent Forbes into the bar to see if Jack was there. Forbes casually walked into the bar as Stanley announced himself as he always did.

"Come on out!" Stanley said. "We're here to collect."

As that scene was unfolding outside, Forbes quickly caught sight of Jack. He sat next to him and patted him roughly on the back. "Well, lookie who we have here!" he said cheerfully.

Jack groaned. "Oh no. Not you again."

"Chester! We need a round over here!"

Chester looked over at Forbes and gave him a death glare. "What do we say, Forbes?"

"Please?"

Chester's expression softened. "You're sober. Good. Two shots of Irish Death Wish?"

"Oh god, not that shit again," Jack said.

"Better make it one shot of that and one of yer beers," Forbes said.

"Lawrence, grab dat beer for me, please," Chester said as he poured Forbes's shot. Cole went to the back room to grab the beer.

"Now, kid," Forbes began as Chester handed him his shot, "I gotta tell you somethin'. The Treasure Hunters ain't pleased you killed Mikey." He slammed down his shot.

 _Shit_ , Jack thought. "Wouldn't figure they would be. So what?"

"Chester?" Cole's voice called from the back. "I think this beer keg is empty. Would you mind helping me tap a new one?"

"Be right dere," Chester said. He went into the back room, leaving Jack alone with Forbes.

"Come outside and have a smoke with me," Forbes said.

"Why would I..." Before Jack could finish his sentence, Forbes jammed his revolver in Jack's back. Jack looked at Fordham, hoping he would step in and help. Unfortunately, Fordham was busily tuning the piano and was oblivious to what was happening. Forbes and Jack stood up and walked outside, where the Treasure Hunter gang was just finishing up their heist. Stanley was dividing out the money they had taken when he noticed the two approaching.

Stanley approached the two men and said, "Good work, Forbes."

"Thanks, boss," Forbes said.

"You must be Stanley," Jack said. "I heard a lot about you."

"All bad, I hope," Stanley said. "Now..." At the snap of Stanley's fingers, two of his men grabbed Jack and held his arms behind his back. Stanley reared back and punched Jack hard in the gut. Jack groaned and coughed as Stanley put his hands behind his back.

"You killed one of our own," Stanley said. He punched Jack again, this time in the face. Jack moaned in pain and a drop of blood came out of his mouth. "Now we're gonna kill you."

"No you're not," came a voice from the saloon. Stanley looked up and gasped when he saw Cole and Fordham. Cole stood in the doorway and Fordham was directly behind him. Both men had their guns trained on Stanley.

Stanley laughed. "Cole Ricketts. Never thought I'd see you again."

"Hello, Stanley," Cole responded in a low voice. "I've been waiting a long time for this moment..."


End file.
